The Drinking Contest
by the-sarcastic-cynic
Summary: Grantaire arrives at the cafe uninebriated, to everyone's surprise. This leads to the most epic untold story of the revolution- the drinking contest between Eponine and Grantaire. -I know the summary sucks. I can't write a good one.


**Hello! This is my second LM fanfic. My first wasn't good, and I've had this idea for a while now. I was reinspired by the movie to finish it. If you think there's anything wrong, or you want to praise it, leave a comment! They are always appreciated as they let me know that people actually read what I write!**

It was a quiet night at the Café Musain. Enjolras was, as always, writing a speech, only pausing to flip through a book written by Rosseau, and then back to work. Combeferre and Joly were arguing over the latter's health, since Joly believed that "he would be bedridden by tomorrow", and Combeferre telling him that he's being "a paranoid pain in the arse". Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Bahorel were discussing the many Parisian women until Jehan, who was writing poetry, told them to be quiet and "stop gossiping like old ladies". Marius was at a table in the corner, writing a letter to Cosette, with Eponine staring at him mournfully.

Eponine still couldn't believe it. She had pined after Marius for years, and now the little lark steals him away from her. She sighed rather loudly. He continued writing. When would he finally notice how much she loved hi-

"I'm here everybody!" Grantaire said, surprisingly unslurred. The men (and Eponine) looked up, then went back to what they were doing. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"You're not drunk yet? The world must be coming to an end," he muttered.

Grantaire gave a little chuckle and said, "_Mon ami, _that's what I came here for. So I can get drunk," Enjolras sighed as Grantaire continued. "I have never gone a day without drink. It is my profession. No one is as skilled as I am in the art."

Enjolras snorted. "If you can call wasting your life an art," he said.

"Oh Monsieur Enjolras, it is an art. The art of forgetting pain and loosening up for once," said Eponine as she walked up to the two men. She had always liked Enjolras. They had spent much time together, him teaching her about politics and literature, and she told him stories from her childhood. She felt like they fit together, not like the hopeless addiction she had to Marius. Enjolras was someone who understood and listened to her. To Marius, she was a delivery girl. "It is an art," she repeated, "and no one is as good as I am."

"Eponine, we all know who the better drunk is," said Grantaire.

"Monsieur Grantaire, I grew up in an inn and my life is sorrowful. I have had much more experience than you do in the fine art of drinking."

"That sounded like a challenge. Whoever can drink the most without passing out or throwing up will be deemed the best." Said Grantaire. He knew it wasn't proper to challenge a lady to a drinking contest, but this was Eponine. The girl who could single handedly win a fight with most of the men in this room.

Enjolras looked up. "Grantaire, Eponine is a lady. It's not proper to challenge her to a drinking contest," he said sharply. Eponine waved him off.

"Oh, don't be a bother, Apollo, I just want a few drinks," she said as Grantaire brought over two bottles of whiskey. At this point the students had turned to watch, except for Marius, who was still writing a letter. Eponine sighed. She had hoped maybe he would notice her.

"Bottoms up, Eponine," Grantaire said, shoving the bottle into her hand and then chugged his own. Eponine glanced at the bottle, shrugged, and gulped the entire thing down. All at once she felt her body warm a bit, but other than that nothing had happened. The other men, however, had their mouths hanging open. Enjolras especially. He had always liked Eponine. She was the only girl who didn't throw herself at him in a desperate attempt to seduce him. She could also hold an intelligent conversation with him, which was no small feat. Why she would ever spend so much time pining after Marius, Enjolras would never know.

Grantaire had already gotten the second bottles. They both chugged them, with Eponine finishing first. The warm feeling grew, making her head slightly fuzzy. Grantaire had started to sing an obscene drinking song with Courfeyrac. Enjolras rolled his eyes and continued to write.

Eponine sighed. Marius still hadn't noticed what was going on. He continued to write furiously. "Staring at him again?"

Eponine turned around to see Courfeyrac looking at her with a knowing smirk. "It's obvious that you love him. To everyone but him, that is." He handed her the third bottle.

"It's almost funny how oblivious he his," Grantaire had now joined the conversation, his bottle half empty and his cheeks flushed. Eponine blushed. Was she really that obvious?

She took a long drink from the bottle, nearly draining it. Her brain began to feel muddled (A/N: I'm not experienced with anything that has to do with drinking, so please bear with me here. I'm trying ) She tried to sit down, but she stumbled, due to the fact that the chair was a good foot away from where she was sitting. A pair of strong arms caught her.

"You missed." She looked up to see a rather serious Enjolras. She giggled.

"Why, hello Enjy," she said as she stood. She ruffled his hair and giggled. He rolled his eyes.

"You've clearly had too much to drink," Enjolras said, trying to pry the bottle out of his hands. She kept it and took another swig, draining it.

"On the contrary, Enj. You haven't had enough," she said, and waved Grantaire over. "Get me and Enjy over here another bottle. You haven't won yet!" she yelled at him. Enjolras shook his head at him.

"I don't drink, Eponine. And don't call me Enjy!" he snapped. This time it was Eponine who rolled her eyes.

"Feeling woooozy yet, 'Ponine?" Grantaire slurred as he brought over her bottle. "You suuurrre you don't want one, Apolloooo?" he said. Enjolras shokk his head.

Eponine clinked bottles with him, and they both took a long swig. Eponine tried to stand, but the room began to swim around. Grantaire was stumbling around, singing with Courfeyrac. Marius was rushing up to her, then stopped, asked her something she couldn't hear. "What?" she tried to say, but he had already run out. She attempted to run after him, only to stumble and fall right into Enjolras's lap.

She looked up at him. Enjolras leaned over her. "Eponine, are you ok?" he asked her. She stared at him for a moment. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

The entire café went silent. Eponine pulled away after a moment, leaving a stunned but secretly pleased Enjolas staring down at her.

Grantaire broke the silence with a cat call. Enjolras glared at him.

"Don't take this as an insult to what we just did," said Eponine, who then ran out the door and threw up. Grantaire climbed onto one of the tables.

"I AM THE KING OF DRINKING!" he shouted as the other students laughed at his drunken victory dance.

"Grantaire, that isn't a good thing," said Enjolras, as he walked out the door to help Eponine.

FIN

**I know, I know, the ending sucked, blah blah blah. I just REALLY wanted to get this done. Sorry. :/ Thanks for reading! **


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